


Living in Germania, land of great beasts and wilderness

by Waldfee



Category: Spartacus Series (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, Goat Farm, M/M, Minor Character Death, Post-Canon, References to Norse Religion & Lore, Return to Germania
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-11
Updated: 2019-05-27
Packaged: 2019-06-25 22:36:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,655
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15650304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Waldfee/pseuds/Waldfee
Summary: This is a short story about Agron and Nasir's lives in Germania, after they have returned there. While they are free and safe at last, other adventures find them...





	1. New-found sons

“Agron, my son!” 

The woman fully turned from the small well where she had gone to gather water for her family. Then she stood in front of them, not quite trembling, she who had given birth to Agron, and was even now still a strong, proud woman. Nasir watched deeply fascinated, deeply moved as tears filled this woman’s eyes as well as these of her son, his lover. 

“Mutter!”

“You found your way back, finally! Oh, how I wished for this day to come…” spoke the middle-aged woman, her long blond hair, graced with a few white strands, pulled back into a loose, elegant knot on the back of her head. She wore a long dress made of light brown wool, with bronze, skilfully crafted fibulas holding it, along with a shawl of white wool around her shoulders and moccasin-like shoes made from finest deer leather at her feet. A necklace of many amber beads adorned her neck, thus marking her as a woman of standing and social influence. But it was her eyes that seemed to pull Nasir towards her entire being: they were kind, wise and nearly as green as Agron’s.

In the next instant Nasir saw his observations interrupted when Agron and his mother hugged each other tightly, clinging to each other desperately. “My son, my child!” sobbed the German woman, overcome with both the grief of having missed her oldest son for long, long years, and the joy of having him returned to her. 

Nasir knew from Agron’s earlier words that he hadn’t had an easy childhood; growing up in Germania, east of the Rhine, meant constantly fighting for survival in midst a harsh nature, with other tribes rivalling for fertile land close by. Malnutrition and at times being hungry during long, cold winters were seen as rather normal. Agron had also told him that ironically only in Batiatus’ ludus he had been able to gain that much muscle weight, as this was the first time in his whole life that he was not being underfed.  
Besides that, people did only seldom grow old and many children died way too early. Although Agron and his family had been born free, they had never been free of enduring hardships.

Agron’s mother still held tightly to her son, but her son pulled back a little, eager to show her the reason for coming back. His reason to live, to love, to risk death and freedom for. But they had succeeded at last.

“This is Nasir, my heart. I intend to settle here with him.” Agron had taken a step closer to his smaller companion, to put a hand lovingly onto his shoulder. The German’s smile was proud, his eyes alight with tenderness. Nasir inwardly smiled, seeing as his lover was so intent upon showing him around and presenting him to this new world. Where Nasir hoped to make a good impression, to be accepted soon with Agron’s help, despite his darker colour and different upbringing. He didn’t speak much German yet, but he had years to learn, because they would stay here, and hopefully grow old together or at least spend decades side by side.

Agron’s mother, with still wet cheeks, gazed at him curiously for a moment, shot a faintly amused, but loving smile in Agron’s direction, then stepped forward to extend both her arms for Nasir to take. He understood the few words she spoke to him warmly: “I welcome you, Nasir, my new son. I am Uta, mother of Agron and Duro and-”

Agron interrupted her words; eyes filled with tears once more, and rubbed a hand over his eyes to quickly regain composure. “Mutter, Duro is dead. I couldn’t save him. He died in my arms.”

Uta turned to him again, laying a comforting hand onto his arm. The sympathising softness of her eyes betrayed her sorrow, but an endless forgiveness as well. “I know, Agron, I knew the moment you stood before me. When in your arms, he must have found a good death. I will pray for him.”

“Mutter!” Agron hugged her some more, the situation overwhelming him, then withdraw and quickly pecked Nasir’s cheek. The Syrian carefully took Agron’s hand into his, to show his support and never-ending love. He would hold his lover later to comfort him some more, once they were alone. Although there was not much privacy to be had in the tribe’s longhouses, which consisted of only one large room without windows and housed the families’ animals as well, but they would surely find a way.

A light, joyful smile was to be found on Uta’s face, as she inquired: “Agron, have you seen your uncle yet?”

Agron shook his head softly and squeezed his lover’s hand, delighting in the knowledge that his hands ware mostly healed. “No, we arrived here only recently and were shown where to find you. Uncle Walmar yet draws breath?”

She nodded. “He is alive and well. You should greet him, I will accompany you.”

Together the three of them left the well behind and went into the small village close by, which consisted of about ten longhouses, each of them housing a family, their aids and slaves, and the livestock behind a partition. Children ogled them curiously, a few men watching with wariness, but Nasir paid them no mind. Not yet.

They found Uncle Walmar near a small hut and working on a deer skin, to have it tanned for further purposes. The old man apparently couldn’t believe his eyes when he set sight onto Agron, his nephew, who was now so much taller than himself and whom he hadn’t seen in ages. And although his old eyes had seen better once, how could he have not recognized the son of his sister, who had inherited her eye’s colour?

Agron hugged the old man as well, encouraged to find his family again, alive and in good health despite the hardships of many years. “Walmar, it’s good seeing you-”

Uta interrupted them, sounding somehow excited. “Agron, you must meet Onno.” She gestured to the young man who had suddenly come out of the hut to greet the newcomers. He had to be very young still, maybe about 15 years, Nasir guessed, although he was nearly as tall as Agron yet. The youngling did have wild, nearly black curls, a handsome pale face and green-greyish eyes. “This is Onno, your brother, and the son the Gods gave me when you and Duro had gone.”

Agron looked unbelieving and shocked, his eyes switching between looking at his mother and Onno. “Brother? But what, I mean, father fell victim to a sword when the Romans captured us. I saw it….”

Uta smiled kindly. “I didn’t know then, but I was yet pregnant when the Romans took you. Now my mind is at peace, to have my living children well and together.”

Onno now stepped forward and greeted his older brother with much respect, his shy gaze searching for Agron’s. “I greet you, brother, of whom I have heard so many childhood tales.”

Doubt was still clouding Agron’s handsome face, but there must have been something in Onno’s appearance that put his many questions to momentary silence. He chuckled, his eyes not once leaving Onno’s face. If Nasir had not been so glad for his lover, he might have felt a spark of jealousy over the attention the young man got from him. “And yet you will hear more tales soon, of how we fought with Spartacus and conquered the Romans. Onno, I should have helped to welcome you into this world, now it seems that roles are reversed. I want you to meet Nasir, who is my heart. Will you help us settle and make a life here?”

Onno’s gaze switched to Nasir. “I will do all in my power to assist you.”

Agron ruffled the younger man’s curls, which reminded him so much of Duro’s that his heart attempted to overflow with love and joy and remorse. “And I will protect my family, all of you, with my life.” He took Nasir’s hand again and they exchanged a short, knowing look full of love and the promise to make their dreams finally come true in this small village east of the Rhine. There was no one holding them back now.

\+ + +

It was only four years later that Uta found eternal peace, having died from an infection to her lungs during the long and still cold spring. Now, after the men had prepared a wooden platform for her to lie on, with some special woods such as yew tree and cottonwood to help her enter the eternal realms, they were about to set the whole platform on fire, as was tradition for the tribe of the Cherusci. Afterwards, her remnants would be put into an urn, together with her most prized possessions, her necklace, bronze coins and fibulas and some small daggers as well. 

Agron halted in his movement with the flare in hand, as he was the one to set fire to the platform. Nasir and Onno stood close to him among the village people, but while the Syrian remained calm and supporting, the younger man’s face showed signs of heavy loss and suffering. He would mourn for a long time before he could laugh again, but he was fully grown up now, a strong man and not alone; he would overcome the momentary hurt at last.

The ceremony was taking place behind the village, close to a sacred place where the people went to pray to their Gods or mourn their lost loved-ones. But in contrary to Roman norms, they didn’t need an actual building for their ceremonies: the Gods showed themselves in nature, so they prayed in the open, with only a wooden fence around the sanctuary.

Agron, now one of the most respected men of the village for his many experiences in war, spoke: “One thing has to end for another to come to life. This we have always known, and so we must accept the death of Uta, daughter of Einar, sister of Walmar and mother to Duro, me and Onno. When in Roman hands, I did not know she had given me another brother after Duro had passed away. I shall be forever thankful, and one day we will join her, but until that time comes we might show her honour by remembering her and thinking of all she ever did for us. For this is much, and I know I can trust in you to join me in this attempt.”

Agron ceased speaking, the other men and women nodding and silently agreeing to his words. No tears, no cries of agony disrupted the peace of the moment, as it was not the way of the Cherusci to be openly dramatic about what they could not change. But they would mourn each of their fallen, women and men alike, in silence, for their lives and ways were harsh, but their hearts loyal and true.

After he had done the necessary task, a few small flames already licking at the wood, he stepped back to his former position beside Nasir, and soon felt the small Syrian entangle both their hands. Gently, Agron pressed his lover’s hand. There was peace to be found in mourning and comfort to be cherished, as it was freely given.


	2. Lovers meet again

Nasir and Agron had long found into a steady rhythm in the village, living with the others in peaceful harmony mostly, or at least on those times when Agron’s quick temper, which hadn’t changed much over the years, didn’t drive the neighbours to aggravate him. They lived in the family’s longhouse together with Agron’s brother Onno, his now pregnant wife Unda, and Uncle Walmar with his wife and three nearly grown-up children. Then there were their aids Ragnar, who was the son of a once caught man from the Norse lands, Hedda with her younger sister Alida, two free women who had fled from their own tribe some time beforehand, and Fenja, a young girl whom Walmar’s wife had taken under her wings after her whole family had been killed by Roman hand. 

Together they were a large family of sorts, fitting together well enough despite all differences. In the evenings there were many stories to be told and much laughter to be heard around the single stove, which served them for heating, cooking and as a light source. Nasir was indeed happy here, despite the lack of comfort and the overall harsh climate. He even had somewhat adjusted to the lack of privacy, as Agron was more than happy to hang a large tissue in front of their alcove, so that nobody could witness their many moments of intimacy. Nasir wasn’t overly worried for his modesty after having lived in war and being fucked by his lover in numerous camps within Spartacus’ army. Though he and Agron had been forced to tune down the level of noise they made when sleeping together, after Ragnar had chuckled all morning after an especially intense round of fucking, and after Walmar’s wife had openly complained to her husband that she envied the loving attention both men bestowed on one another. And upon one night, Nasir had even discovered one of Walmar’s daughters peeking through their curtain while Agron had sucked him off enthusiastically, with his naked ass high in the air. The girl had gotten a spanking and a harsh reprimanding from her father out of it, but since then, he and Agron had sometimes sneaked away and off into the forests after lunch to have some time just for themselves.

Nasir was not afraid of the wide, dark forests of Agron’s homeland, which were called ‘hercynian forest’ according to the Romans and were situated north of the Danube and east of the Rhine. He had seen and survived much while travelling here, and after having defeated the Romans and crossed the Alps, everything else had seemed laughable in comparison for some time. In the years to follow he had of course come to understand that even being free and away from Rome’s grasp didn’t mean leading an easy life. He had many things to tend to nowadays: help the women on the fields, tend to the cattle and learn hunting and fishing from Agron and the other men, cut wood, renew the wooden parts of the house and repair its thatched roof again and again, train the boys and younger men of the village in fighting and so on.

So this was how it came to be that Nasir felt deeply in awe whenever he walked into the forests close to his new home:

“You ready to go, love?” Agron huddled closer to his lover’s position on the ground in front of their house, were Nasir had been busy cleaning his knifes and daggers. Beside him on the grass lay his spear, but not the one from Roman origin, but a German one, which was called ‘frame’ here.

“Indeed I am” Nasir answered, easily accepting Agron’s closeness and pressing a small kiss to the waiting lips. 

The tall German grinned and petted Nasir’s dark strands upon hearing that. Together they stood and, not quite hand in hand as not to provoke Ragnar’s teasing again, wandered off into direction of the forest. Their walk was not only for purposes of privacy, but of necessity also, as useful herbs like garlic mustard or mint could occasionally be found. At least if they found some, they would have something to give to Walmar’s wife who would put them into her stew.

Once they were out of sight, Nasir put his right hand daringly onto Agron’s left butt cheek, to pinch it slightly and hold on to it. Agron just chuckled and pulled the Syrian closer against his side. Arm in arm they walked, with only the clatter of Agron’s sword on his other side disturbing the silence, until Nasir spoke up: “You had something specific in mind when you asked for my company?” A light smirk on his full lips showed the humorous nature of the question, as it was obvious to what their encounter would lead.

“Hmm, I’m not sure actually” Agron pretended to think about it “maybe I want to make sure no Romans are spying on us, or warriors of other tribes seeking our kin’s goods, weapons and women.” 

“You’re absolutely right; someone has to protect the weak and elderly. Who, if not the mighty Agron with his little companion? We must protect Walmar’s girls as well, so that they can continue to gaze upon your form unhindered when no stronger warrior is nearby whom they could admire instead.”

Agron huffed indignantly. “There simply is no stronger warrior in this village.”

At this, Nasir patted his ass again, laughing softly. “And no one who is more handsome, or more proud.”

“I suppose, though you are much more beautiful than me, and the shining sun of my old days.”

Now Nasir laughed some more. “You are not old, Agron. It’s been a few years that we stood with Spartacus, but still -” Nasir reached for the German’s cheek to cradle it lovingly in his smaller hand “we’re still quite young ourselves. Not a single hair of yours turned grey, while Ragnar is turning bald rather quickly.”

Agron withstood the temptation to think some more on Spartacus’ death, but concentrated on Nasir and fully turned to face him now. “Ragnar is close to forty years; he should marry. But you” he emphasized by leaning closer and meeting his lover’s attentive, tender gaze “are unparalleled in beauty, wit, grace and fierceness of temperament. And the best of it all? Everyone knows you’re mine.” Agron smiled, meeting Nasir’s lips in a passionate, heart-felt and long kiss.

Nasir put his arms around the taller man’s arms, relishing the wonderful moment. Though on occasions they quarrelled some, it was never on bigger things, and their passion still burned hot enough to attract the envy of others. And while in Spartacus’ army they maybe had fucked more frequently, they did so now with more ease and leisureliness, taking their time to truly get to know each other and take delight in every intimate encounter.

Some time later the two lovers could be found reclining in the high grass just outside of the forest’s edge, still close to their new home. Nasir had covered Agron’s big body with his own to rub against him, their hard erections sliding against one another sensually. Despite the apparent simplicity of their movements, it felt like pure bliss to Nasir, as he was free and had stolen one more moment of perfect happiness to be with his German. Agron was wholly his and his alone, married and promised to him in their own special ways, and Agron had given him more love, trust and support in the last years than he had ever dreamed of. Agron loved him and would never leave him, and just now proved this by kissing Nasir fiercely, raking his fingers through his long hair and rutting against him passionately. Then Nasir ejaculated, arching his back and locking eyes with Agron, who kept on in his movement until the overwhelming sensations, in combination with the arousing sight above him, became too much. The German shot his seed against Nasir’s tight stomach, sighing deeply in contentment as his Syrian lover lowered his body to rest his head on Agron’s shoulder.

When Nasir raised his head again to kiss Agron, he found the green eyes to be damp from unshed tears. He brought his fingers up to cup the German’s cheek and ask full of concern: “What is it, my love?”

Agron smiled and blinked the tears away, being stubborn as a mule, of course he would not cry them. “It’s just that I’m so contented. I always thought to die in battle before gaining thirty years of age. Now it seems I might turn old with the love of my life at my side and in peace as well. Who would have known…?”

Nasir settled against him, kissing Agron’s cheek tenderly. “They, who came before us, your mother and mine, Duro and my family – they must have known. They gave us strength, set us on our paths towards each other, so that we could meet.”

“Maybe” Agron nodded finally, claiming Nasir’s lips again with his own.

When the Syrian found breath to speak some more, he confirmed: “It is so, I just know this to be truth.”

\+ + + 

Arm in arm they wandered further off and finally into the forest, where an enjoyable calm surrounded them under the wide branches of mighty oaks, young birches and beeches. Agron had known some of these trees since he was a child and it always made him feel grateful to return to this place. While being here it was easy to imagine that nothing had changed in the mean time and that Duro might come and greet him when he came back to the village. They had played so many games here, had dreamt boyish dreams of gaining honour and victory in war.

These dreams had not lasted after all, but nonetheless he now felt much closer to Duro than before, as if some part of his spirit had chosen to stay here and watch over Agron and his family. Much of the former, nearly unbearable pain of losing his beloved brother had faded away, to make place for cherishing memories from the past and new hope for his life with Nasir and Onno, whom he both loved above all others. Even the eventual death of his mother hadn’t cut so deep as to take this new-found and welcomed sense of awakening away from him.

Nasir, forever the attentive lover, swiftly picked up on his mood and poked him softly in the ribs. “Are you thinking of him?”

Agron simply nodded, knowing this answer would be enough, for the Syrian knew him well enough to understand the things he couldn’t put into words regarding Duro.

And so Nasir smiled tenderly and lightly tugged on Agron’s hand, to get in the lead while the tall German was lost in thoughts. Their walk was enjoyable, although done in silence mostly, but both men didn’t mind it. While Agron still thought of his lost family members, Nasir used the opportunity to memorise each and every living being they encountered, which plants would be edible and which not, how the native birds were called, which larger animals lived here and how to hunt them, and also how he could find his way back to his new home if he lost their direction. 

Soon the sun set and they were pressed to return, if they didn’t want to miss dinner. Agron was kind of hungry by now and wanted to pull Nasir to him, to kiss him to distract himself from the need in his stomach, when his lover suddenly stumbled and fell forward and to the ground. Agron also felt the ground give in under his feet only a second after. Both men fell downwards, deeper into the dark abyss in a tangle of limbs and met the ground of the hollow short after. Agron had hurt his head, but felt Nasir moaning in pain close to him, and was relatively relieved to know his lover alive and conscious. He embraced him from behind to check Nasir for wounds, when he heard it: the heaving snuffling of a pretty large animal close to them. There was _Something_...

They were not alone.


	3. Hercynian forest’s spell

Nasir and Agron did not have much time to analyze which evil-doing monster was trapped with them. Naturally, Nasir was less well acquainted with the local forest animals, which were plentiful, than Agron. Nevertheless, the animal was well recognizable even in the evening twilight with its long, forward curved horns and stately body shapes as a member of the cattle breed.

"Agron! It is a cow. It will trample us to death!"

The tall German tried to do a quick assessment of the situation and came to a slightly different conclusion. "It's not a cow in the true sense” Agron had now settled into a kneeling position and pushed Nasir halfway behind him, to save his lover from coming to harm. "I think it's an aurochs. It is dangerous."

Nasir gasped and reached for the little dagger he carried with him in his belt. This light, handy weapon had already done them many valuable services.

Again, it snorted immediately in front of them. You could not make out much of the surroundings at a depth of close to two meters below ground level, but it was clear that the animal had not fully committed itself to its fate and was bound to see them both as a threat.

In addition, the aurochs must have been down here for some time, maybe a few days even, as it had worked its way through the bottom of the pit in search of an escape route, causing the walls to collapse in part. All around them lay loose soil, mossy remains, and the foliage of surrounding trees. This circumstance might have saved Nasir and Agron from worse injuries. 

The tall German eyed the animal suspiciously, which seemed to have difficulty keeping up. "We are still lucky" he said. "The animal is already weakened and it is not a bull, but rather a not yet mature cow. Otherwise we would probably already have felt the horns."

Just then, the muzzle of the animal came dangerously close to him, as if to sniff or nudge him, maybe out of curiosity, fear, or simply the will to survive. Agron immediately sensed the forceful kick of an ungulate leg against his knee, may it be accidental or not. He almost blacked out, but he pulled himself together somehow. He shouted at the animal in the following, hitting the massive forehead with his fist to deter it. After that, his hand hurt more than he had hurt the cattle, but the beast bleated confusedly and at least for now desisted from further pursuing with them.

"Give me your dagger, Nasir, fast." Agron's sword was still hanging from his hip and had also inflicted some minor injuries on his legs as he had fallen into the pit, but the threatening animal was already too close to draw the sword and execute it with the bigger weapon.

The spoken-to did what he was asked to do. Agron paused for a moment. Surely he could kill the aurochs quickly, but that right should have belonged to those of their young warriors who had built this trap. Nevertheless, it would also have been their task to mark the trap for human eyes or to inform them of its presence. But now he had no choice.  
Stretching out his long arm, Agron lunged forward, positioning the blade as fast as lightning and cutting the young cow's throat. The animal moaned in pain, while Agron felt the warm blood pouring from the deadly wound through his clothes.

Then finally the animal collapsed and remained dead. A tense silence dominated the moment when Nasir and Agron tried to catch their breath.

Then Nasir, still covered by Agron's tall stature, inquired, as he could not see so much in the semi-darkness: "The aurochs is dead?"

"Yes," answered Agron. "We are safe as soon as we manage to climb out of this pit."

"Let's use the body of this animal for it." Already Nasir laboriously pushed past Agron and climbed onto the back of the carcass. Since Agron supported him from behind, it was then no longer difficult for him to cling to some protruding roots from the ground and escape the burrow. 

As soon as Nasir felt solid ground underfoot, he stooped to reach Agron. The great German took only a moment to join his lover and look at him with concern. "How are you doing? Are you hurt, my love?"

"No, I'm fine, except for a few bruises. But what about you? You got kicked after all." Nasir pulled Agron's chin down for a reassuring kiss.

When they parted again, Agron murmured morosely, "My knee hurts, but the bone isn’t damaged. We can look at it at home. Let's get out of here; I'm fed up for today. "

"I would also like to wash" confirmed Nasir, whose clothes were soiled from top to bottom, while Agron's cloak had gotten most of the aurochs' blood.

Agron put a protective arm around Nasir's shoulders as they made their way home, declaring: "Our young warriors are making traps for the aurochs as this prey brings them fame and acknowledgement. It is a mystical animal that has great power. The priests even have their own magic sign for them."

Nasir had of course heard of the aurochs and seen quite some drinking vessels made from their horns, although he had never seen any of them before, as well as he hadn’t yet seen bears in this part of Germania.

With the magic sign Agron had of course meant runes, more precisely the rune 'uruz' which symbolized the mighty animal, the great wanderer of the Northern forests. Nasir still did not quite know what to think of some of the customs and ways of thinking of his new neighbors. For while the belief in the gods, for example in Odin or Thor, seemed understandable and obvious, the belief in the power and magical significance of rune stones was difficult to understand. It seemed a bit strange to him that the seers carved small staffs from beech twigs, carved runes on these, threw the staffs on the ground and wanted to prophesy the future from the random arrangement. The belief in his own energy, in the strength of his own hands and in the power of his heart, had become much more obvious to him during their long, strenuous struggle for freedom.

When they had almost reached the edge of the village, Onno came towards them. The young man made big eyes when he became aware of them. "What happened to you? I just wanted to go find you two."

Agron grimaced, revealing his pain and the inherent skepticism that never left him completely even in his homeland. "We have slipped into a bottom trap, in which already an aurochs was stuck. Nobody had taught us about traps in the forest. Do you know anything about this?"

His curly-haired brother frowned. "I was told nothing about it. But maybe the trap is new and no one has ever had time to tell us about it."

Agron scowled. "The aurochs was already weak and must have been in the pit since at least yesterday. We should definitely tell uncle Walmar about it."

It turned out a little later, that none of the villagers was responsible for the construction of the pit, neither did somebody knew something about it. In the centre of the village a brief discussion was then held about what was to be done now, because there could be intruders nearby who wanted to rob the land and soil of the Cherusci.

"It is almost impossible that other villages of our tribe would have built this pit, because they have never done such a thing before, and they would certainly have informed us" said Walmar.

"And the Romans would simply be too lazy to build such a deep pit" Agron declared. "Even if they used slaves, it makes no sense to them. They would have attacked us while we were still in the pit."

Nevertheless, it was right not only to think of strangers but also of the Romans. The land of Agron's forefathers was not so far from the Rhine that the Roman legionnaires could not have sent a single unit here.

Now Yvo, another of the respected men in the village, spoke up. "There must be strangers in the vicinity, perhaps scouts of the neighbouring tribes of the Lombards or Hermundurs."

"It's certainly a trick anyway" muttered Agron sullenly.

Nasir put a hand on his lover's back to relieve his displeasure. "Can’t this be a natural hole in the ground, and the aurochs just fell in by accident?"

"The hole is too deep for that. Unless it's an old ground trap that has long been forgotten and was never properly filled. Maybe only superficial foliage was on it, and when the aurochs had fallen in, it had broken under its weight" Gunnar, one of their neighbours, objected.

Nasir noted with satisfaction that the men all fearlessly and freely expressed their opinions, instead of listening to the word of a leader or superior only, as Romans did. The only thing that counted here was the reputation of a man, his skill in battle and his energy, and not, as in later centuries, the wealth and power of a few nobles.  
And though the women were subordinate to the men, they were also respected and had privileges and rights that protected them from injustice.

"Anyway" Walmar finally intervened, "we should get the aurochs' meat tomorrow morning, before it rots. Then we should explore the area more closely, search for enemies and best set up a guard. I will also ride to the next villages to find out if they have heard anything about enemy attacks or Romans advancing."

Everyone agreed, and thus the further procedure was decided. Agron and Nasir then went to bed quickly to recover from the strain. Nasir fell asleep immediately, but Agron was badly plagued by pain in his knee that was badly swollen.

Only a short distance away, under the same thatched roof, the young Onno lay next to his wife and was struck by dreams that left him unable to rest. In his dreams, his father returned to him, whom he had never seen, but had missed much of his youth, until he finally found a role model in his older brother Agron.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Most of the earliest runes and rune stones that are known today date back only to the 2. century AD, but as their origins still remain mysterious it isn't totally impossible that Agron and Nasir would have known of them.

**Author's Note:**

> ‘Mutter’ means ‘mother’ in German. And yes, the German tribes of these times possessed ‘half-free’ (as in farm hands) and ‘unfree’ (or enslaved, caught in wars etc.) people.


End file.
